ghostlycamil4

[ghostlycamil4]

Hey queen can u pls do smth where Bakugo meets reader who’s a bartender at the bar and takes an interest in her from her chill nature then they start talking 😶

𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐: 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔

𓂃 ࣪˖ i’m so sorry it took me forever to write this TT your request never left my mind, until the whole story unfolded. thank you for the idea, and for your patience.

in this quiet little au, bakugo finds himself at a bar on a slow monday night—no clients, no company, just the hum of neon and the clink of glass. he isn’t expecting to meet someone like her. a bartender who doesn’t fawn, doesn’t flinch, and doesn’t fall for his usual tone. and that? yeah... that’s what gets him hooked. hope you enjoy the slow burn, the soft tension, and the way they quietly unravel each other

↳ alt universe | word count: 2.8k

At the end of a hallway bathed in red, where the light didn't so much illuminate as it hinted, an unmarked door marked the entrance.

The front of Red Riot glowed crimson—bold and tempting, like a promise only a few could afford.

His steps were steady, confident. The kind of elegance that only men used to wearing expensive suits without trying too hard could pull off.

He wore a black one. Perfectly tailored. The top button of his shirt undone.

No tie. That said enough.

He wasn’t with anyone, which was unusual. Bakugo always brought a client, a colleague, some idiot he needed to convince or manipulate. But not tonight.

Tonight, he sat alone.

Instead of heading to one of the VIP tables in the back, he dropped into a stool at the bar—like he wanted something a bit more... grounded.

And then he saw you.

Not right away. It was the kind of moment when someone stumbles across something unexpected but doesn’t want to admit they’re interested.

His gaze skimmed the edge of the bar, casually scanning what he could see: your crisp white shirt tucked beneath a black apron tied tightly around your waist. Your hair pulled into a high ponytail, leaving your neck exposed—unintentionally.

No flashy makeup. No cleavage.

And yet, Bakugo felt a traitorous little pang in his chest.

You hadn’t noticed him at first. You were busy arranging glassware on the back shelf, moving with mechanical precision. But there was a moment—barely noticeable—when you knew you were being watched.

It wasn’t just any stare.

It made you look up. Seek it out.

And when your eyes met his—intense, blood-red, with that tired glint of someone who’s made too many decisions—they held the moment still.

Almost magical.

Almost annoying.

You didn’t smile.

Neither did he.

You walked over to him slowly, almost bored, like the weight of his stare didn’t faze you at all.

“What’ll it be?” you asked. Polite. But not sweet.

Bakugo barely turned his head.

“Whiskey. Neat.” His voice was low, rough—gravel dragged through smoke.

You were reaching for the bottle when you glanced back at him—maybe out of reflex.

And in that exact second, his gaze met yours again, only to quickly dart away.

Like he’d just gotten burned.

“Tch…” he clicked his tongue under his breath.

He pretended to watch two women passing by in tight dresses and hollow eyes. He looked like someone used to that kind of attention. That kind of night.

And when you returned with the glass, he couldn’t help but look again. This time, closer.

He didn’t say a word.

His whiskey barely made it to his lips before he turned toward you again. No attempt to hide his curiosity now.

“When did you start?” he asked, blunt and unfiltered.

You weren’t surprised. Of course he was a regular—you could tell by the way he owned the space.

“Just over a week, sir,” you replied, steady and sharp. Someone who knows her worth, even if she’s new here.

He raised a brow.

Silent amusement.

“Sir.”

God. What a delicious level of formality.

He didn’t comment, but he leaned into the bar, like giving you permission to keep going.

“Oh yeah? And what happened to that dumbass Kaminari?”

“No idea, sir... just told I’d be filling in for now.”

“So you’re on trial,” he said—not a question, but a statement. Like he was part of the committee deciding your fate.

You weren’t wearing the gold nameplate the permanent staff wore. He’d looked for it the second he spoke to you. Wanted to know your name.

Now he understood why he couldn’t find it.

“That’s right, sir,” you confirmed.

A beat passed.

He rolled his neck slightly, like the words coming up were heavier than he liked admitting.

“Call me Bakugo.”

It took you a second.

Not because you didn’t hear him. But because you weren’t sure he meant it.

Still, you took it.

“Then Bakugo...” you said softly, like trying the word on your tongue before making it yours. “I’m Y/n.”

His hand was big. Warm. And for just a moment—just one—he didn’t let go right away.

Before the silence could stretch, a loud voice cut through it.

“Bro!”

Kirishima’s cheerful voice shattered the tension like a rock through glass. The owner of Red Riot walked up to the bar with a wide smile and open arms, like it didn’t matter it was Monday or that the place was half-empty.

The contrast was subtle but obvious: Kirishima dressed like he didn’t give a damn, but perfectly so. Dark linen pants, a silk shirt with soft patterns, unbuttoned just enough to show a slim chain resting on his collarbone. Always carrying that buzzing energy wherever he went.

“Damn, weird seeing you alone. Left the pack of wolves at home tonight?”

Bakugo scoffed, not even bothering to look at him.

“Didn’t come to babysit idiots.”

“So, you needed air,” Kirishima translated, amused, giving his shoulder a light slap.

Bakugo didn’t deny it, but didn’t answer either.

“I thought Mondays were your save-a-soul day,” Kirishima added with a half-grin. “Anyone survive this week?”

“Barely,” Bakugo muttered, finally sipping his drink. “Didn’t come to talk about that.”

Kirishima chuckled and shrugged, like he understood completely.

Then he noticed you.

“Right—” he turned toward you with a grin that could light up the whole damn bar. “You met T/n yet? My newest gem. Just a week in and already fixed the mess Kaminari left behind.”

Bakugo didn’t say a word. Just looked at you again, as if suddenly remembering you were still there. His gaze scanned you slower this time.

“She’s quick, sharp, and doesn’t miss a thing. She even helped with the orders without me asking.” Kirishima turned back to you, winking. “You see why I love her?”

Your face didn’t change, but your neck warmed.

Just a bit.

Bakugo noticed.

Of course he did.

With a wink your way and a pat to Bakugo’s back, Kirishima disappeared down the private hallway. Maybe to check books. Maybe to negotiate with ghosts.

No one asked questions at Red Riot.

And the second he was gone, Bakugo spoke.

“You’re not good at hiding it.”

His tone was so casual you could’ve sworn he was talking about the weather. Or how you wiped glasses.

“Hiding what?” you shot back, raising a brow, not bothering to mask the challenge.

“That you like Kirishima.”

That made you laugh. Not loud. But real. A short breath of honesty.

“The boss? Hell no.”

Finally, he looked at you. Slowly. Like your answer needed to be measured in heartbeats.

He was searching for something in your eyes—something he maybe hoped to find, or hoped not to.

He didn’t find it.

You passed a test you didn’t even know you were taking.

“Do you like being recognized?”

The question caught you off guard—not sarcastic, not mocking. Just... curious.

“I like feeling like what I do matters,” you said without looking at him, knowing full well he wouldn’t miss a word.

Silence.

Then the soft clink of his glass on the bar.

“That’s a good answer,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

He watched you like someone who’d just found something interesting in the middle of a boring routine.

And that... that made you a little nervous.

But not enough to look away.

“What do you do, anyway?”

Bakugo didn’t seem surprised. Almost like he’d been waiting for it. In fact, it amused him.

He gave you a half-smile—the first one that didn’t look cynical.

“Thought you already knew.”

“Nope. But I’ve got a few theories,” you said, drying a glass with a small, curious smile.

“Oh yeah?” He raised a brow, like you were teasing him without meaning to.

“You talk like the kind of guy people are forced to listen to. So I figured... politician?”

Bakugo laughed—short, rough, but real.

“Close. Lawyer.”

You turned, putting the glass back on the shelf and shaking your head slightly.

“Yeah, that tracks.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said innocently. But it wasn’t nothing. And he knew it.

“Not bad,” he admitted, idly turning his glass. “And you?”

You blinked at the question. You didn’t know if it was curiosity... or if he just wanted to level the field.

“You don’t have the local accent. You don’t care who the clients are or why they’re here. You’re watching. Adjusting.”

He leaned on the bar, jaw tight. No condescension in his voice—just truth, handed over to see what you’d do with it.

“You’re not the type who serves drinks for fun. Or passion. I’d say you’re testing something.”

A short pause.

“And if I had to bet, I’d say you’re running from something. Or someone.”

His thumb stopped spinning his glass for a beat. A flicker of tension. But it was there.

You crossed your arms, not in defense—just out of habit. But inside, something shifted.

Not because it wasn’t true.

But because he saw it first.

“What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Nothing,” he said calmly. “If you did, it’d be to deny it... and I don’t think you want to lie to me tonight.”

Silence. Thick. Like cigarette smoke. A kind of tension that doesn’t break—just changes shape.

“And you know what?” he murmured. “Bet you can’t make me more than four decent drinks in a minute.”

You crossed your arms again, eyebrow raised.

“Four?”

“Four good ones. None of that ‘throw ice and juice in a glass and call it a cocktail’ bullshit.” His eyes sparkled—not mocking, but genuinely interested.

“And if I win?” you asked, calm—even though your heart was thudding in your throat.

A pause. Jaw flexing. Then a slow, sideways smirk, arrogant—but damn sincere.

“I owe you respect… or an invitation,” he said. His voice dropped a notch—just enough to make you lean in by reflex. “Not to the bar. Something better.”

It took you a second to process what he meant. Or didn’t say. What he suggested without offering.

“Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Lawyer?” you said, the “Mr.” dripping with teasing sweetness.

Bakugo didn’t laugh.

Didn’t flinch.

“I’m offering you options,” he said. His tone had edge—but not anger. It was honest. Serious. Real. “Take ’em or leave ’em.”

The silence after that was thick as hell. A kind of tension that didn’t dissolve—it shifted.

He held your gaze like stone.

And you knew—whatever this was, it wasn’t a game.

Not for him.

Not for you.

“Start the timer, Bakugo,” you murmured, voice steadier than your own heartbeat.

And for the first time that night, he smiled with something damn near pride.

“Three... two... one.”

Your hands blurred into motion. Two shakers—one in each hand—packed with ice. Fresh-squeezed lemon juice. Syrup. Bourbon. You moved like time didn’t apply to you; like your body knew what it was doing before your brain even caught up.

Bakugo, still leaning on the bar, said nothing. Didn’t even blink.

The counter shook under the rhythm of your movements. You shook hard, in sync. Two drinks at once. Poured, garnished with surgical precision. A cherry on each rim. A thin slice of orange you cut without even looking. The glasses lined up in front of him like little soldiers.

When the timer hit exactly one minute, you slammed both shakers down with a clean, controlled thud. The last glass perfectly finished. Silence settled.

Six.

Six damn whiskey sours. Foam untouched. Presentation flawless.

“See?” you said, a hint of pride curling your lips.

Bakugo lowered his phone, stared at the lineup of drinks… and then at you. Slowly. Like he didn’t know what he was more impressed by.

“Shit…” he muttered.

It was the closest thing you’d get to a standing ovation from him.

Then he turned his head slightly and motioned to the nearest server.

“Take ‘em. On the house.”

“How generous, sir,” you teased as you wiped the bar with that same damp cloth, unable to hide the grin still tugging at your mouth.

“You just made me spend more than I planned tonight,” he muttered. No trace of annoyance. Just that ambiguous tone of his—hovering somewhere between business and... something personal.

He slid a card across the bar like he was laying a weapon on the table.

You picked it up with mild curiosity, feeling the smooth weight of it between your fingers. Sleek. Classy. No frills. Just like him. Matte black, silver embossed letters catching the low bar light. His name —Katsuki Bakugo— centered in a clean, bold typeface.

Beneath it:

Legal Representative – Bakugo & Associates.

And below that, the detail that made your stomach flutter just a bit:

His personal number.

Plain. Direct.

An invitation without an invitation.

And when you looked up to say something—anything—He was already gone.

Just his empty glass left behind.

His shadow dissolving into the haze of music and smoke.

No warning.

No second glance.

Just that.

But somehow—you knew. Somewhere between your throat and your pride, you felt it:

This man was going to ruin your life. And you weren’t sure you wanted to stop him.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒆

𓂃 ࣪˖ we might be early for christmas, based on a sweet request from my muti @sunniescats bakugo + reader + mistletoe = exposed (kind of)

It was Kirishima who saw it first. His booming laugh cut through the conversation. Then Uraraka let out a small gasp. And within seconds, the whispers spread like wildfire through the living room.

"Are you serious!?" Mina shouted, pulling out her phone.

Your name appeared several times in the comments. Bakugo’s too.

And you… you still didn’t know why.

Until Denki, wearing his classic oops smile, walked over with his phone in hand.

"Don’t hate me, but… look what I accidentally posted."

The picture was a little blurry, the typical chaos of a party: everyone grouped together making faces or throwing up peace signs.

But the background…

The background told another story.

There you were. Half-hidden by decorations and movement, but unmistakable. Your body turned slightly toward him, your hands laced tightly with his.

The intimacy was written all over Bakugo’s posture—leaning ever so slightly toward you, in the way your fingers sought his, in how he didn’t let go.

The room fell into expectant silence. Someone stifled a laugh. And then:

"I KNEW it!" Mina shrieked, pointing at the screen. "I freaking knew it!!"

"We weren’t hiding it," you muttered, while Bakugo let out a low scoff, clearly annoyed.

"We just weren’t announcing it," he added dryly.

But no one was listening. Because the comments were already flooding in online:

BAKUGO??? HOLDING HANDS??? AND HE LOOKS HAPPY???

And we thought the mistletoe was just decoration. The power...

They’re so cute it hurts my chest

It’s about damn time, BAKUGO!

You smiled. And then you remembered… exactly how it had happened.

The living room had been packed, the music playing at medium volume, voices mixing with the clink of glasses and the scent of cinnamon in the air. But you and Bakugo had drifted off, instinctively finding your way to the quiet hallway near the back.

There it hung—an overlooked mistletoe. One of those Kaminari had put up “just in case.”

Your fingers shifted gently within his, squeezing softly. His palm was warm, holding yours with a firmness that didn’t overwhelm. His eyes dropped to your lips for a moment, then to the little branch hanging above you.

"You thinking what I’m thinking?" you whispered.

"That Denki’s gonna talk dumb shit if he sees us," he said, still deadpan, though he didn’t pull away.

"That we’re standing under a mistletoe," you clarified.

Bakugo clicked his tongue.

"Stupid-ass tradition..."

You chuckled softly.

"It’s just a kiss, Katsuki. And no one’s watching."

He looked at you then—really looked at you. His crimson eyes held that calm intensity he only ever showed when his guard was down. He squeezed your hand just a little more, like it was his way of bracing himself.

Then, without another word, he leaned in.

His lips met yours with a quiet kind of gentleness. The kiss was slow. Intentional.

When he pulled away, he didn’t speak right away. He just rested his forehead against yours, the closeness lingering like warmth in the cold air.

"We didn’t need the mistletoe," he murmured finally, voice low and brushing your lips. "But it wasn’t bad."

"‘Wasn’t bad’?" you repeated, pretending to be offended.

He huffed.

"It was good. It was... you know."

"You look kinda cute like this," you whispered.

Bakugo pressed his lips together, shaking his head.

"Don’t say dumb shit."

But he didn’t let go. And neither did you.

And when, a few minutes later, Denki’s picture captured that moment where you were just standing under the mistletoe, holding hands... no one knew the real moment had already passed.

That the kiss had already happened. And that the part no one caught on camera—that was the one that truly mattered.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

tysm for tagging me yours was so cuteee <3

the closest thing to aface reveal ur getting from me tbh tagging the next: @sunniescats @5oftkitty @stars4pais

ok starting a picrew thing bc its fun!!! make urself using this picrew ^__^

☆ tagging @tiranniesu @mortuarydolls @love2much @kirby6aero @motorvehiclecollision @prxincesxo @caramelsprout @cherubg1rl @bunnyheartsurgery @evilwizardgirl @mikitakawife @nivolumab000q ☆

[ghostlycamil4]

thank you sm to @stars4pais for tagging me!! ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ

Last Song Listened To: Complicated –Avril Lavigne

Favorite Artist: Lana del Rey

Favorite Drink: Red berry bubble tea

Last Fic You Read: Sae Itoshi x Reader

Last Show/Movie Watched: Weak Hero. One of the best k-dramas i’ve seen this year

Pet Name and Type (if you don't got one say what would you want): Suki, my tiny dog with main character energy

Which Character Is Literally Your Personality Copy Paste: i’m emotionally Nana Osaki and mentally Saiki K

now i’m tagging @deejse @lotusstarr @katsukilvr and anyone else who wants to overshare

Tag Game!!

Get to know your moots better (grins maliciously) by tagging them to answer these questions (I'm nosy that's low-key why) Last Song Listened To: Favorite Artist: Favorite Drink: Last Fic You Read: Last Show/Movie Watched: Pet Name and Type (if you don't got one say what would you want): Which Character Is Literally Your Personality Copy Paste:

@pomigranit @vyzoi @airybcby @xmsmarvel18 @spideygirl90 @st4rry-skyz @demiitria @dontlickmyfeetplz and anyone else!!

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐿𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑦 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢

𓂃 ࣪˖ just a boy, a cardigan, and way too many feelings. he’s so doomed. he knows it. and honestly? he doesn’t even mind. new drops every friday (or when the brainrot hits)

The rain tapped softly against the fogged-up window. Long, lazy drops slid down the glass. You stood beside it in silence, arms wrapped around yourself inside that white cardigan you loved so much. Your jeans—loose, comfy—said you had no intention of impressing anyone that afternoon. That you were just there, calm, present. And yet, Bakugo couldn’t stop staring.

He sat in his chair, legs spread, elbows on his thighs, eyes fixed on you. He didn’t even try to hide it. He couldn’t.

"I think I’m losing my goddamn mind," he blurted out suddenly, frowning.

You didn’t look at him. Not yet.

"That’s not exactly breaking news," you replied lightly, still unaware of what had prompted him to say that.

But he didn’t answer right away. He glanced down at his hands, at his restless legs. At the uncomfortable pressure growing between them. He was half-hard. Over a damn cardigan and some jeans. You weren’t even dressed up. No makeup, no cleavage, no flirty intentions. Just you. Just that... and it was enough.

"Guess this is what it feels like," he muttered.

"Feels like what?" This time, you did turn around, curious. You walked toward him unhurriedly and stopped right between his legs. Your hands lowered gently to rest on his shoulders as you looked at him with one brow raised.

Bakugo clenched his jaw. He couldn’t have you this close and keep his damn composure. His hands, warm, slid up your waist, gripping you like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You’re doing this on purpose, fuck… I hate you," he muttered, looking away. He couldn’t meet your eyes. Or your lips. Or that smug little smile you wore so damn well.

He stood up with you in his arms, like you weighed nothing, and in two steps had you on the bed. He laid you down gently, though he made it seem casual. Like there was no urgency, like he didn’t want you so bad it hurt.

"Hey, don’t change the subject," you laughed, though your fingers were already twisting in the fabric of his shirt as he settled above you, firm but not heavy, with his knees on either side of your hips.

"Shut up," he muttered. "I’m busy losing my mind over you."

"Katsuki..."

He placed one hand beside your head, and the other slid down your waist, pressing gently where the cardigan parted.

"You’re not even trying. Not even doing it on purpose. And still… look at me."

He gave you a look that was pure surrender.

"I’m fucked."

And you kissed him. You kissed him because you knew exactly what he couldn’t say with words. Because you were falling too, slow and hopelessly.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

hi love your fics… I’ll try to keep this brief. I just got some bad news and I’ve been crying all day…

Could you maybe do a small bakugou fic or headcanon where the reader found out something and they’ve been sad all day? maybe they don’t want to bother bakugo and they don’t say anything (if he’s there) or they don’t call/text (if readers at their own place idk.

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense but i’m really just looking for some comforting words right now :( Sorry if i’m didn’t explain enough either.

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐴𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔

𓂃 ࣪˖ for you, i hope these words feel like a soft place to land. you don’t have to explain a thing. just breathe. just rest. take all the time you need. i’m proud of you for making it through the day!

You didn’t text him all day.

And still, he’s here.

He didn’t ask if he could come. Didn’t ask for an explanation. Just knocked on the door, and when you opened it, he stood there in silence. Watching you.

His eyes dropped to your hands, your posture. The way you were pretending to be fine without even really trying.

"Hey," he says finally, voice a little rough, like he’s about to say something important. "I’m not here to bug you."

He pauses.

"Just... figured maybe you wanted someone to stick around."

Bakugo sets the bag on the table. The one that held your favorite snack, and a drink he hates but you always get.

"Come here."

There was no judgment in his tone. No rush. Just space.

The kind of space that doesn’t demand you be okay.

The kind of hug that doesn’t expect you to smile.

Bakugo held you close to his chest and didn’t say anything at first. Let the silence do its thing. Let your body slowly relax. Let your breathing fall into rhythm with his.

And when he felt you needed it, that’s when he finally spoke, with that raspy voice he only ever used with you:

"You don’t gotta say anything. It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk. I’m here, alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere."

His fingers moved gently along your back, no rush.

"You can stay like this for as long as you need. You don’t gotta be strong right now. You don’t gotta do a damn thing."

And then, even softer, almost like he was speaking straight to your heart:

"You’re not alone. Not when you’ve got me."

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑅𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡

smth quick i wrote, might turn it into a longer version later but i kinda liked how it turned out. see you friday with more requests! 🕸️ ghostly tag guide

Dealing with Bakugo after a long mission was a task that, without exception, only you could handle. Not because he asked you to, but because he simply wouldn’t open that door to anyone else.

He didn’t let you pick him up at the airport or at the agency. Said it was a hassle, that there was no point, that you’d see each other at home anyway. But you knew the truth: you knew him well enough to understand that the moment he saw you, he’d need to touch you. And he didn’t trust himself to keep it together in front of other people.

This time it had been thirty-three days. Thirty-three damn days and nights, sleeping with your pillow clutched to your chest and your phone always on loud, just in case he managed to call. He didn’t talk much—never did during long missions. Short texts, rushed video calls at weird hours. But he never failed to say “love you” right before the signal cut out.

And then… the door opened.

And you… you were right there waiting in the living room, smile barely contained and your hands hidden behind your back.

“You’re home!” you shouted—louder than you meant to, like your heart had just leapt out of your chest.

His eyes softened like he’d been on the verge of crying without even realizing it. The suitcase dropped to the floor with a dull thud, completely ignored. His chest rose and fell once, like he could finally breathe again.

And you were already running to him. Or maybe he had already lunged at you.

But it didn’t matter. He was home. He was with you.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

Hello! I love love LOVEEE your writing so so so so much, its SO inspiring! Anyway, was thinking of angst to fluff? Bakugou x reader (doesnt have to be specified which gender) about the reader passing out from dehydration? No rush ofc, and you don't have to do if if your not comfortable, you can take it any direction you want js no smut pls!!!!! Also maybe a little bit of implied dadzawa ? This is my first time sending a request so, I hope this is the correct place 🐁

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐸𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠

thank you for your first request this one’s for you some angst, some fluff, and a whole lot of bakugo care. hope it’s what you were hoping for!! 🕸️ ghostly tag guide

The new suit fit like a glove. Lighter than the previous one, but reinforced at the joints, with flexible plates that followed the line of your arms and thighs without hindering movement.

You observed your reflection with a mix of pride and anxiety. The thermal regulation still wasn't fully calibrated, but the technicians said it would hold up for basic testing.

And just as you were about to ask another question, the floor trembled beneath your feet.

A sharp crash, like metal being torn from its foundations, echoed from the upper floor.

Red. Flashing light. Voices rising.

"Intrusion code on Upper Level. Personnel, evacuate immediately," a mechanical voice rang out from the speakers.

The technicians dropped their tablets and clipboards. Some ran. Others hesitated. One tripped over a box of components trying to reach the exit. Panic hadn’t completely taken over yet, but it was building.

You reacted instantly.

Zipped your suit all the way up. Adjusted your gloves. Left the testing room without looking back.

In the hallway, some students were already guiding civilians. You recognized Iida giving directions and Yaoyorozu creating improvised barriers with polymer plates.

And then you saw him: Bakugo.

His back to you, steps steady, jaw tight, walking in the opposite direction of the evacuation flow. Heading straight for the noise.

"Bakugo!" you shouted, quickening your pace to catch up. "We need to help evacuate! Civilians first!"

He didn’t even look back. Just answered with a grunt:

"Let the others handle that. I’m gonna blow the bastard who dared to break in to pieces."

"Katsuki!" you raised your voice, angry, but he was already picking up speed.

There was no other choice. You growled under your breath and followed, your quirk beginning to hum subtly under your skin, ready to activate.

The plan was to go up, use the elevator in the tech wing... but when the doors opened, it wasn’t civilians who stepped out.

A tall figure, covered in what looked like a torn suit but reinforced at key points, looked at you from inside the elevator with a twisted smile. His eyes had glowing implants, and his voice had a metallic echo.

"Well, well... the explosive brat and the damn gem. Ain’t I lucky."

Bakugo stepped forward without hesitation.

"Tch. Damn scrap metal freak."

Everything moved fast.

Bakugo faced him head-on, moving like lightning, his explosions rattling the hallway. You supported from the side, activating your quirk to weaken the electromagnetic field on his weapons, forcing him to back off every time he tried to propel himself.

But the air was heavy. The smoke from the explosions, the friction of your still-uncalibrated suit, the rhythm of your movements… everything started to feel slow.

Your muscles burned. Your lips were dry. Sweat ran down your neck like you were trapped in a sauna.

You didn’t stop.

Even when the edges of your vision started to go dark. Even when you could no longer hear clearly. Even when your head pounded like your skull was going to split open.

"NOW, DO IT!" Bakugo shouted, launching a direct blast at the villain you’d left with no escape.

You moved your hands with effort. Your quirk activated one last time, creating a breach in the enemy’s protective field. Bakugo’s final hit sent him flying into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Victory. You’d done it.

And then… you swayed.

"Hah?"

That was the last thing you heard from Bakugo before everything shut down.

Your body collapsed sideways, like a rag doll. The suit’s sensors flashed red for a second before going dark. The hallway spun one last time in your vision, and then everything went black.

"Oi! OI!! Don’t fuckin’ do this!!" Bakugo yelled, running to you.

He dropped to his knees clumsily, pulling your shoulders against his chest. His glove touched your cheek, and the heat made him frown. Your lips were cracked. Your breathing, shallow.

"You’re burnin’ up... goddamn it..." his voice was low, almost hoarse. With rage. Or maybe fear.

Bakugo hadn’t moved.

He’d been sitting in that straight-backed chair for hours, not straying from the bed for a second. He’d taken off his gloves, rested his elbows on his knees, and kept his eyes locked on your fingers. Watching every tiny movement. Every tremble. Every breath.

And then the door opened without warning.

Bakugo didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Aizawa.

His eyes were lowered, shoulders a bit tense, hair looser than usual. He closed the door behind him without a word. Walked to the other side of the bed.

And then, his voice:

“What were you thinking?”

Bakugo didn’t answer right away. He just leaned back, exhaling like he’d known that was coming.

"I had it under control," he muttered finally, without looking at him.

Aizawa crossed his arms.

"And that’s why you, the first one to break protocol when it suits you, decided to drag someone with an incomplete suit into a fight."

"That’s not what happened!" Bakugo snapped, rising slightly from his seat.

“And you don't decide when to break the protocols, it's that me!”

Silence. And just when it seemed like it wouldn’t end...

A soft whisper. Barely audible.

"...It wasn’t his fault." Your voice, hoarse, broken, just a murmur.

But your voice... though weak, was firm.

"Bakugo… didn’t force me. It was me."

"We’ll talk later," Aizawa said at last, taking a step toward the door.“About what was done right, and what wasn’t. And why there are always consequences when people act without thinking.”

But before he left, he paused.

He turned his head just slightly over his shoulder.

“Thank you. Both of you. For keeping everyone safe.”

It was blunt. Like someone who didn’t know how to soften the tone. But the message was clear.

He was proud. And scared. But more than anything, relieved.

You turned your face a little, with effort, and noticed Bakugo was still looking at you just like before.

"Don’t go."

He scoffed. Quietly.

"Where the hell else would I go?"

You wanted to say something more, but the words didn’t come. You just moved your hand.

He hesitated. Just for a second.

And then, he took your hand.

Lifted you easily into his arms, and without looking back, took off running.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

Hiiz Mila!! Your blog is so yummy and I'm the one who requested for 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 THANK YOU SO MUCH! I loved it its so yummy. Anyways I was hoping if you could make a bakugo x bsf? reader who cant move on from her damned 1 month situationship, and when reader is finally moving on that guy suddenly appears before her and suddenly she's back to square one and bakugo comes into the picture and comforts reader helping reader move on slowly

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑎 𝑇𝑒𝑥𝑡

i had such a good time writing this and your last request too! this one’s for the babes who’ve ever been dragged back by a text you should’ve never read.

The rhythm of the dribbling was steady, almost hypnotic, until you let it go with a heavy sigh, catching it on the rebound and walking to the edge of the court with your body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Ten minutes, okay?” you murmured as you grabbed your water bottle, not waiting for a response.

Bakugo just nodded with a tilt of his head, too focused on sinking another perfect shot from the three-point line.

You sat on one of the concrete benches, letting the cold plastic of the bottle ease the heat in your hands a little.

The screen lit up with a notification:

Unknown Number

You frowned.

Your finger hovered for a second before sliding the screen to read the messages.

[7:41 PM] i know i shouldn’t text you but

[7:41 PM] i can’t stop thinking about you

[7:42 PM] can we talk, please?

[7:42 PM] just… just see you one more time

[7:43 PM] i miss you. more than i should.

[7:44 PM] i can’t leave it like this. please.

Your fingers tightened slightly around the phone, like that could protect you from the rush of dread rising in your chest.

“What the hell are you lookin’ at with that face?” Bakugo grunted from the court, the ball now tucked under his arm, his breath heavy.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly—maybe too quickly.

You tried to put the phone away, but his reflexes beat you. In one swift motion, Bakugo crossed the court, leaned in, and snatched the phone from your hands like it was just part of training.

“Katsuki! Give it back!” you protested, trying to reach for it, but he was already standing again, raising the phone above his head and stepping back, ignoring your swats.

Bakugo didn’t answer. He just looked down at the phone for another second, let out a sharp breath filled with restrained anger, then turned the screen off before finally handing it back. But instead of walking off or picking the game back up, he dropped down beside you on the bench with a long, rough sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he. The silence settled heavy between you two, awkward and familiar.

Until Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose, like something inside him was starting to burn.

“Look at me,” he said suddenly. “You’re not lettin’ that bastard break you again, you hear me?”

“It’s not that easy,” you whispered, barely audible.

Bakugo scoffed.

“No, listen to me,” he cut in, his voice lower now, more real. “You’re my friend. My damn best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you destroy yourself again over someone who was out with other girls while you gave him everything. I swear to god, I’m not.”

“This is just a test, you hear me?” Bakugo repeated, voice steady and sure. “It’s not a sign. It’s not fate. It’s not that he changed. It’s just… some bullshit test.”

“A test,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning to face you with his brows drawn tight. “And you know what you do with tests?”

You didn’t answer. Your lips pressed into a thin line, eyes falling to your shaky hands.

Bakugo clicked his tongue.

“You pass ’em, damn it. You face ’em head-on, with everything you’ve learned, with every tear you’re not wastin’ on that asshole. Or you gonna tell me this whole month meant jack shit?”

“It was hard to let him go, Katsuki,” you admitted, voice cracking.

“And no one’s askin�� you to forget him overnight. But what I am askin’ is that you don’t backslide. Don’t break yourself again for someone who didn’t earn it.”

He turned his whole body toward you now. His knees brushed against yours. His voice dropped, softer. More grounded.

“You’re worth more than some 7 PM texts sent ‘cause he’s lonely. More than empty words. More than broken promises.”

You gave him a small, tearful smile—shaken, hurting, but a little less alone.

“Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Tch… come here,” he muttered with fake annoyance, and before you could react, he reached out and messed up your hair without mercy, ruffling it hard like you were a kid and it was his job to annoy the hell out of you.

“Don’t cry. You start gettin’ all mushy and I’m outta here.”

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍

i know father’s day already passed, but bakugo with his mini-me? yeah, i had to. 🕸️ ghostly tag guide

When he was home, Bakugo was never alone.

Not even in the bathroom.

Because the moment the faucet squeaked or the door creaked open, there was Kai—barefoot, one sock half-on and the other dragging behind him like a cape—staring at him intently. He had his same eyes: that bright red with golden flecks when the sunlight hit just right. 

"What’s that, Dada?" Kai asked, resting his chin on the edge of the sink.

"Shaving foam," he answered without looking. "Helps me shave."

"Can I do it too, Dada?" Kai asked suddenly, raising his voice a bit, excited. "Can I?"

Bakugo stopped, turned slightly, and frowned.

"You don’t even have a single hair on your face."

"But I wanna try..."

Kai’s shoulders dropped, a pout creeping onto his face. And then Bakugo noticed it in the mirror.

Your reflection. Standing in the hallway doorway, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Not a single word came out of you. But you said everything with that look. The same one you gave him whenever he acted stubborn or tough. The one that said: Come on, it won’t kill you. Just do it.

Bakugo sighed.

"Tch... fine, come here."

He sat Kai on the sink, dabbed some foam onto his cheeks, and spoke firmly:

"It’s not a toy, Kai. It’s sharp. You can cut yourself. Know what that means?"

Kai stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he mumbled:

"That it can hurt?"

"Exactly," Bakugo nodded, giving him a light tap on the forehead with his finger. "So don’t ever try it on your own. Ever."

"Okay, Dada."

Kai was grinning with excitement—until he stuck out his tongue.

"Hey! Don’t eat it," Bakugo caught his hand. "It ain’t marshmallow."

Once he finished shaving, he handed Kai a bladeless razor.

"Hold it tight. Watch what you're doin’ in the mirror. Always downwards. Slow. No rush."

Kai nodded, mesmerized by the weight of the razor in his hand. He leaned in a bit closer to the mirror and, with his tongue poking out and his brow furrowed just like his dad's, started dragging the razor down his left cheek, clearing the foam.

"Look, Dada! It’s working!"

Bakugo crossed his arms, hiding a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Like a damn pro," Bakugo muttered, wiping the leftover foam from Kai’s ear.

"I’m just like you, Dada!"

Bakugo looked at him in silence for a second, as if those words hit harder than he expected. He ruffled Kai’s hair with one large hand, and in a softer tone—the kind he only used when he meant it—he said:

"Yeah, Kai… just like me."

But you're gonna have it easier. You’re gonna do better. I’ll make sure of that.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

Tag Guide:

#ghostlyfluff4bakugo → Soft Moments 🥞

#ghostlyhome4bakugo → Domestic vibes 🌷

#ghostlychaos4bakugo → Funny, chaotic, and affection 🧸

#ghostlyclouds4bakugo → Bittersweet Angst 🍂

#ghostlyheat4bakugo → Smut/Mature Themes 💭

#ghostlyburn4bakugo → Slow Burn Romance ⌛

#ghostlysugar4bakugo → Softness with a hint of sass 🍰

#ghostlyreqs4bakugo → Requests ✉️

#ghostlyau4bakugo → Alternate Universes 🎲

Feel free to explore or stalk the tags anytime—i hope this makes things easier for everyone navigating my bakugo brainrot

[ghostlycamil4]

hi i’m backkkk after a tiny break

coming in hot w/ two new reqs—hope someone noticed i was gone lol

• Loneliness Is Louder At Dusk (second part of Duty Over Love)

• Who's laughing now? (fluff)

anyway, we’re back to our regularly scheduled friday updates

tysm to the new mutuals btw, y’all are so cute fr!!

[ghostlycamil4]

I just had to work up the courage to ask! Can I please have bakugo with a playful reader who loves play wrestling and tickle fights even though bakugo wins most of them and he’s just so smitten with her lion cub personality 🥹

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑊ℎ𝑜’𝑠 𝐿𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑁𝑜𝑤?

omg finally had the time to finish this one!! poor bakugo just wanted a peaceful night but ended up in a tickle war 🕸️ ghostly tag guide

The door shut behind him with a sharp click.

"I'm home," he announced, voice rough and tired. Patrol had been a damn nightmare: long hours walking, sticky heat, civilians crankier than usual. The only thing keeping him going was the thought of seeing you—knowing you were there.

But the silence was absolute.

No music, no sound of your voice calling from the kitchen, no hurried footsteps coming to greet him. He frowned, slowly taking off his boots by the door. His eyes went straight to the coat rack. Your coat was there. And next to it, your bag. He bent down suddenly, a sharp movement, as if looking closer might give him a logical explanation.

And then he saw it.

Your phone. On the dining table.

He moved through the apartment fast, like he was searching for an intruder to rip apart with his bare hands. He opened the bedroom door. Nothing. His eyes scanned every corner like you were gonna magically appear. The bathroom. Empty. The closet. Nothing.

His heart pounded, off-beat, like his chest wasn’t big enough to hold it.

Now he was torn between shouting your name or dialing 911. His hand was already halfway to his back pocket, trembling slightly, when—

A hand.

A damn hand shot out from under the bed and grabbed his ankle.

The scream he let out echoed off the walls. Instinctively, he jumped back, tripped on the edge of the bed, and caught himself on the doorframe before he could fall.

And then—your laugh.

That bright, shrill, mischievous laugh.

You slid out from under the bed, cheeks flushed from laughing and eyes sparkling with trouble. You were laughing with your whole body, bent over, shaking like what just happened was the funniest shit that had ever happened to you.

"You little shit" he yelled, no real bite to his voice, still shaken from the adrenaline spike.

You brought your hands to your face, still trembling with laughter.

"Katsuki! I swear your scream was… was glorious!" you choked out between laughs, trying to pull yourself together. "Are you pale?"

Bakugo didn’t know if he wanted to yell at you, hug you, or strangle you. His jaw was clenched so tight he could barely speak without spitting every word.

"Are you fucking insane? What the hell was that?! I almost called the damn cops!"

"It was just a prank," you shrugged, still wearing that bratty little grin. You bit your lip to stop another laugh, but the way your cheeks twitched gave you away.

"A prank?! I’ll show you a fucking prank!"

Your hands barely had time to press against the mattress before he shoved you down, just forceful enough, making you fall flat on your back on the messy sheets.

"Katsuki!" you protested, your voice going up in pitch, already knowing what was coming.

"Don’t you dare play innocent now," he growled, crawling over you with that dangerous glint in his eyes, a mix of cruel satisfaction and poorly hidden affection.

You scrambled backward awkwardly, trying to crawl away, but he was already straddling your hips—anchored, solid. You weren’t going anywhere.

"No, wait, wait!" you raised your hands in surrender, laughing before he even touched you. "It was a joke! A harmless joke!"

"Harmless, my ass."

Then he struck.

His hands came down like a storm—quick, precise, like he knew exactly where to hit. His fingers dug into your sides, targeting the spot between your ribs and waist with surgical precision.

"NO—NO! Katsuki! You fucki—AHAHAH!"

Your body snapped like a spring. You kicked, squirmed, tried using your hands to push him away, but it was like trying to move a boulder. He stayed on top of you effortlessly, legs locking you in place, while his expression grew more and more satisfied.

"Real funny, huh? Not so hilarious now, is it?"

"Stop! Please!" you screamed between gasps, voice cracking from the nonstop laughter, eyes brimming with tears. "I’m gonna pee myself!"

That only seemed to motivate him more.

His hands slid up your sides, switching pace, letting you breathe for half a second—just enough to trap you again. Your back arched, your fists hit him with no strength, and he just kept going, relentless.

"Fuck you…" you muttered through laughter, unable to even fake being serious.

"What was that?" he raised a brow.

Then he went down.

No warning. No time to prepare. He dipped his face into the curve of your neck. First came the heat of his breath, a soft exhale brushing over your most sensitive skin. Then his lips. His mouth. Not a kiss. Not a bite.

Tickles.

With his mouth.

"No! Not there! Katsuki, please!"

You thrashed like you were being electrocuted. Your legs slammed into the mattress, your hands tried to push him by the shoulders, but he had you exactly where he wanted. His lips brushed your neck as he blew gently, then pressed the tip of his nose right into the hollow under your ear. Sometimes he made a little sound against your skin, a ptchh with his mouth that drove you insane.

"What? Here?" he murmured in that low, gravelly voice, just before making you dissolve into laughter again, switching sides—this time just below your collarbone.

"I HATE YOU!"

"Liar," he whispered, and his lips touched your skin slower now, no tickling this time, just staying there… breathing with you.

You were panting, cheeks hot, eyes closed, a smile of surrender stretched across your lips. He lifted his head a bit, looked down at you, and let out a low, raspy laugh—like he couldn’t believe how stupid he felt… how fucking happy he was.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

S-s-so senpai.. are you working on the 2nd part of Duty over Love? E-eek! No rush.. I just really wanna fuck on Izuku behind his back..

This shit is embarrassing to ask

𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝐼𝑠 𝐿𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝐷𝑢𝑠𝑘

part two is finally here and yes… we’re being messy. enjoy the heartbreak and the heat thank u sm for being patient!!

also yes... there will be a part three bc clearly we’re too deep in now, open to ideas if u got more

→⁠_⁠→ Part 1

The U.A. parking lot was nearly empty at that hour. The sun had started to set a while ago, some teachers had already left. Even the latest students were gone. Only you remained… and the echo of a promise that never came.

You did it again, as if that would change anything.

Calling: Katsuki

"The voicemail box of the number you dialed is..."

You hung up.

You took a deep breath and opened the messaging app again.

You [6:37 PM]: Katsuki, are you on your way? I left a while ago.

You [7:02 PM]: Are you okay? Just tell me if you’re not coming, please.

You [7:45 PM]: Katsuki, I’m freezing out here. This wasn’t part of the plan...

You [8:09 PM]: Don’t do this to me. Not today. I asked you.

You closed your eyes. And then, the memory hit you.

That night, just a week ago, when you were lying on your side and he got into bed later than usual. You thought he was asleep, but he wrapped an arm around your waist and mumbled against your neck:

"I know I’m not perfect... but if I lost you over this, I wouldn’t forgive myself."

"Then do something about it."

"I will. I swear, Y/n. This time, I will."

The first tear fell before you even noticed. Then another. And another. Until your hands were covering your face, your shoulders started shaking, and the only sound breaking the silence was your ragged breathing and the soft patter of your tears against the pavement.And then…

Headlights lit up in the distance.

The sound of a familiar engine.A figure behind the wheel.A car pulled up right in front of you.

"Y/n..." The voice was soft, almost afraid, like he might break you just by saying your name.You turned slowly, eyes puffy, hands still trembling in your lap. It wasn’t Bakugo.Izuku leaned in without invading your space, brows furrowed in worry, his hands suspended mid-air, like he didn’t know the right place to touch.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone."He didn’t ask anything else. Didn’t wait for answers. He just gently opened the passenger door.

"Let me take you home, yeah?"

"I don’t wanna go home." Your voice was barely a whisper—broken but firm.

Izuku looked at you for a second that felt endless. Then he nodded, once, without arguing. He shut the door softly once you got in and walked silently to his seat.

There were no more words as the car started moving.

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at a high lookout point, where the city looked like it slept under a veil of distant lights, and the beach stretched quietly, like a reflection of your tired chest.Neither of you spoke.

You let your head rest against the window, watching the waves crash in the dark. You weren’t crying anymore. Maybe because there were no tears left, or maybe because Izuku hadn’t asked anything.

He just stared straight ahead, fingers laced on the wheel, like he was waiting… for something. The moment, the right words, a way not to make it worse.

But he said nothing.And for a while, that was enough.Your back was still pressed against the rear seat when Izuku pulled away just a bit, panting, his curls falling over his sweaty forehead. His hands were braced on either side of your head, and his eyes—green, shiny, blown wide with want—searched yours with silent urgency.

"Can I?" he whispered, voice low and tight with restraint.

Your blouse, half unbuttoned, was wrinkled at your sides; your skirt was barely lifted, leaving your legs exposed and shaking. He hadn’t had the patience to take his shirt off, but his firm fingers slid shamelessly down your chest and ribs with torturous slowness, leaving a trail of heat on every inch they touched.You didn’t need words. You just lifted a hand and brought it to his cheek, brushing your fingers along it before nodding. And that was all it took.

The leather creaked beneath the weight of his movements. Your fingers tangled in his half-unbuttoned shirt, dragging it down his shoulders, needing to feel more skin. The heat between you was unbearable, delicious, brutal.

"Don’t look at your phone," he muttered suddenly, his voice hoarse, like the sound had pulled him out of a trance.And then you heard it: the familiar buzz.

Your phone. Vibrating on the passenger seat.

Katsuki

You saw it out of the corner of your eye. Felt the tug in your chest. The lump in your throat. A sharp sting of guilt…

But Izuku dipped his head immediately. His hot breath hit your ear.

"Stay with me."

And with those words, his movements grew more rhythmic, deeper, rougher. Like he couldn’t stand the idea of your mind drifting to someone else, like he needed every inch of you to respond to him. He lifted you with both hands, one under your back and the other at your hips, making the friction perfect—almost cruel.

"Deku..." you whispered his nickname through gritted teeth, and it lit something in him.

And he didn’t stop.

Not when your legs tightened around his waist.

Not when your nails dug into his back.

Not when your lips released a plea.

The climax came like a controlled wildfire: Your bodies shook in sync, overwhelmed, soaked, wrecked from holding on. Izuku barely managed to hold himself up on his elbows, his forehead still pressed to yours, his breath uneven against your mouth.

Only the ocean down below.

Only the whisper of the wind.

Only the faint comfort of not being alone.

3 messages from Katsuki.

No tenderness. No apologies. Just him, being him.

[Katsuki]: Had to go to Kamino. Level 3, it was urgent.

[Katsuki]: If you’re still awake, go to sleep.

[Katsuki]: Don’t want drama or bullshit when I get there. Got it.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑊𝑖𝑛 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒

🕸️ ghostly tag guide

Damn you.

That was the only thing Bakugo could think as he stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp and falling in messy strands across his forehead, a white towel barely tied around his hips.

Your eyes wandered slowly, from the droplets sliding down his collarbone to the well-defined ridges of his abdomen. Like you were devouring him with your gaze. Like you didn’t have a damn ounce of shame.

"Staring again?" he growled, tilting his head just slightly, trying to sound annoyed. But his voice came out lower, rougher, like your very presence was tightening around his throat.

And you… you just smiled, slow, mischievous, like you knew exactly which button to push.

"It's a show worth repeating," you murmured, stepping closer to him.

Bakugo frowned, stepping back out of sheer reflex, like that could save him. Like distance could do anything against the heat rising up his neck. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t gloat. You just approached him calmly.

Your fingers lifted, one touching his chin softly, tracing that sharp line with a teasing kind of tenderness. He swallowed thickly, lips tense, but didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Then you did what you knew drove him fucking insane: your hand dropped, one resting on his abdomen —that damn six-pack he trained like perfection was a requirement— and the other slid up to his chest, in a slow, shamelessly intimate touch that seemed to freeze the air itself.

"You’re soaked..." you whispered, almost innocently, though the intention in your voice was far from it.

"You’re fuckin’ insane..." he muttered. But there was no anger. Just frustration. Pent-up want. A need he couldn’t hide, especially because the white towel wasn’t helping. He knew it. And you damn well knew it. The obvious bulge said it all, defying his words, betraying his supposed indifference.

You loved that.

Seeing him unravel. Seeing him vulnerable right when he pretended to be untouchable.

"I love how you blush," you whispered, bold, as your thumb lazily traced a circle over his chest.

He shut his eyes for a second, clenched his teeth, and took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that was starting to lose control. Every fiber of his being screamed to move, to do something. But his pride was a wall that refused to break.

"You don’t get to me..." he murmured, barely audible. But his voice cracked at the end.

You let out a soft laugh, full of that confidence that only comes when you know you’ve already won.

"Sure, baby. Whatever you say."

And you stayed there, provocative, enchanting, like a storm disguised as a caress. And him… he hated you.

He hated you with every impulse to wrap you in his arms and give in completely.

But more than anything… he hated himself for loving you so fucking much.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

Hello!!!

I saw your requests were open so I thought I'd drop one for you ❤️

An I please get fem!reader x Prohero!Katsuki

They were classmates in hs, dated in their 2nd year and broke up shortly after graduating bc reader decided he should focus on his career since he'd been dreaming of becoming #1. He's heartbroken but throws himself into work, so reader makes the assumption that she'd made the right decision. They don't see each other besides the occasional passing on the street, maybe a team up between agencies here and there.

The reunion comes along, and the tension and feelings between then are still there. They don't talk much, but he offers to drive her home and it's quirlet at first, but then they talk about the breakup. She apologizes, and Katsuki is a bit snippy about it, like "I shouldn't have made the decision to end our relationship for you," and he says "yeah, you shouldn't have," kind of snippy, but not entirely angry.

She invites him up to talk in her apartment and things very quickly take a turn, they end up having intense, desperate sex and then talk about trying again.

Sorry it's so long but it's an idea I've head in my noggin for so long, and I just work too much to have time to write 🥲

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑀𝑒

thank you sm for being patient with me! feel free to drop by again anytime, my inbox is always open for you <3

Warning: Content explicit sexual content, suggestive language, 18+.

It was supposed to be a class reunion, but with all the stiff speeches and cameras flashing everywhere, it looked more like an official gala. Heroes, execs, politicians… and him. Of course he’d be there.

You barely exchanged words. Just polite small talk. His voice sounded different, deeper—like time had roughened it too. He stood alert, arms crossed, like he didn’t quite know what to do in a place where no one needed saving.

When you decided to leave, he showed up. Didn’t say your name. Just stepped in your path and said:

"I'm taking you home."

"That’s not necessary."

"Didn’t ask."

And you couldn’t say no.

The car moved in silence, the hum of wet asphalt the only sound. That’s when you saw it: the “Outstanding Hero” plaque shining in the back seat.

"Congrats…" you said, not looking at him. "You deserved it."

"Yeah? You think so?"

"l always knew you’d make it."

He let out a bitter laugh.

"Right. That’s why you left, huh? So I could focus. So I could get here."

"It wasn’t like that..."

"Don’t tell me how it was. I was there too."

The silence hung heavier. Still, you spoke:

"I’m sorry… for how things ended. I thought if I stayed, I’d hold you back."

He looked at you for the first time.

"I could’ve done it with you. You weren’t a distraction. But you made that call for both of us."

A pause. Then, with a voice laced in something worse than bitterness:

"But thanks… for the congrats."

When the car stopped at the underground garage gate, you didn’t expect anything else. But Bakugo shut off the engine in silence, opened the door, and got out.

You hesitated for a second.

Was he going to walk you to your apartment door?

You didn’t ask. Didn’t say a word.

Just grabbed your purse and followed.

You walked together to your floor, your footsteps heavy in the hallway. You pulled out your keys without fumbling, but didn’t unlock the door just yet. You looked at him. He looked back. And you said something brief, almost automatic:

"Thanks for the ride."

"Hmm."

That should’ve been it. But just as you turned the knob, his hand closed around your wrist.

"You still feel it?" he asked near your ear, voice low and rough. "Or is it just me?"

It was the first time you’d ever heard him vulnerable—no sarcasm, no walls.

Just an honest question.

His hand slid to your waist, and his mouth found yours. At first, it was soft. Just a brush. A pause. Like he was asking permission.

But when you kissed him back, all that held-back urgency broke loose.

The kiss turned deeper, rawer. He pushed your body firmly against the door until your back met the wood. One hand reached over your shoulder, turned the knob, and with a single step, he led you inside.

When his mouth dropped to your neck, it was slow, leaving a trail of heat that made your skin shiver.

"You really thought I’d get over you that easy?" he growled against your skin. "Just forget you like it was nothing…"

His hand moved up your side—not desperate, but like he needed to make sure you were real.

"I didn’t think…" you managed between shallow breaths. "I just… thought it was the right thing."

"It wasn’t," his lips brushed just beneath your ear. "It was bullshit."

You rode him with legs trembling from tension and need, hands pressed to his firm, sweat-slick chest. Your hips moved in a rhythm somewhere between clumsy and desperate, chasing more, feeling him deeper with every grind.

Bakugo let out a strangled groan, like something cracked inside. He sat up, arms wrapping around you with wild need. He pulled you flush against him, mouths crashing together as his hips started to move with a pace that stole your breath.

"Fuck…" he muttered against your mouth, his hands trailing your back, your neck, your ass. "You feel the same… no, better. Fucking perfect."

Your movements got more erratic, needy, bouncing against him with broken moans. You heard him pant in your ear, curse under his breath, his hands gripping your ass to guide you harder, deeper.

Suddenly he grabbed you, flipping you onto your back with a rough, almost clumsy motion, settling above you. He pushed your legs open with no care, like the world was ending and the only way to hold it together was to be inside you.

There was no pause. No time to think, breathe, speak.

"So fucking beautiful," he growled through clenched teeth, hands gripping your thighs as he drove into you hard.

His hips pounded into you with a brutal rhythm, so frantic the wet sounds of your body meeting his echoed with every thrust. Your nails clawed down his back, unsure if you wanted to pull him closer or beg him to stop before you shattered.

"No one," you gasped, voice trembling. "No one... only you."

He grabbed your throat, not tight—just enough to hold you there, keep you grounded as you looked up at him, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure. His thumb brushed your jaw with something close to tenderness… but his body kept slamming into you like he was fighting something. Maybe everything he never said. Maybe himself.

"You made me lose my fucking mind…" he whispered, voice wrecked, sweat running down his neck, chest, the curve of his tense muscles. I kept remembering how you sounded... how you moaned my name.

You weren’t leading anymore.

You were his.

Completely his.

Your body shook, legs trembling, pressure building in your core with unbearable intensity—bringing you to the edge again and again, until finally, with a ragged moan, you shattered beneath him, clinging to his shoulders like you were falling apart.

And he… he followed right after. Burying himself deep, letting out a feral groan into your neck, his arms clutching you like he never wanted to let go again.

He stayed inside you, panting, face buried in your neck, chest rising and falling hard against yours.

"Fuck…" he whispered in your ear, barely audible. "Fuck… Y/n."

Neither of you said anything else for a while. Just the sound of his heavy breathing, your chest still trembling, your fingers lazily tracing the line of his back.

He closed his eyes for a second and dropped beside you, one arm reaching out. Instinctively, you turned, resting your head on his chest, your fingers drawing slow patterns on his skin.

"Would you do it again?" he asked suddenly, not accusing, just curious.

"This?" you whispered.

"No" he replied, his fingers gently toying with your hair. "Choosing for both of us."

You went quiet. Felt his chest rise and fall beneath your cheek.

"No" you finally said. "This time... I’d ask you."

You looked at each other like two people finally coming home. No questions. No promises.

Just the unspoken truth that, despite everything, you were still you.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

Hii!! Can u pls write a masked reader where no one in the class has seen her face before but one day she finally reveals it and Bakugo just goes like “oh damn they’re pretty” or smth so he falls for her thankiess 💕

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐻𝑒'𝑠 𝐼𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼𝑡 𝑌𝑒𝑡

thank you for being patient with this one, i was trying to find the right quirk that would actually explain why she wears the mask... plus i really wanted that soft, vulnerable moment with her and bakugo to hit just right.

Quirk: Solar Light Reaction.

Her skin absorbs solar energy uncontrollably. If exposed to sunlight, her body begins to overload with energy, leading to pain, fever, or even involuntary explosions. The mask and her full-body suit help regulate this energy and prevent an overload.

Context: Bakugo and Y/n were paired for a special training exercise against a pro hero.

The fight was so intense that Y/n had to push her quirk to the limit. She unleashed a massive amount of energy to secure the victory… but it left her completely drained.

Right after the match ended, she collapsed unconscious in front of everyone.

Recovery Girl walked out, hands clasped behind her back. When she saw him there, so still, she looked at him over her glasses with a raised brow.

"Ah, Bakugo. Something wrong?"

He took half a second to react.

"Tch... No. Nothing. Just…" he cleared his throat, turning his face slightly. "Is she okay?"

She looked at him with a mix of tenderness and restrained surprise. Then she nodded, without losing that look in her eyes that said she’d noticed everything.

"She’s stable. Still unconscious, but no major damage. What she did out there was reckless," she said with a sigh. Then, studying him. "You can go in if you want. Just don’t go yelling and wake her up."

And without waiting for an answer, she walked off down the hallway.

He didn’t move right away. He looked at the open door. Took a deep breath.

And then stepped inside.

Lying on a cot, covered in a blue hospital gown, no trace of her hero costume. Her hair—that was always tied up or hidden under the mask—fell loose over the pillow, messy, wild. He stared at it, confused, like he couldn’t match it with the image he knew.

He took a step.

Then another.

Each one slower than the last.

He didn’t know why, but it felt like he was intruding on something intimate. Like he shouldn’t be there. Like what he was about to see… wasn’t meant for him.

But then he saw you.

Your face. Full. For the first time.

And all the noise in his head went silent.

You weren’t just pretty. No. That wasn’t it. There was something in the way your features rested, in how your slightly parted lips breathed slow, in how your skin, now free from the pressure of hiding, looked so fucking perfect.

And your face… your face was a secret the whole damn world was missing out on.

"Shit… " he muttered under his breath, like a thought that slipped out by accident.

And then, you opened your eyes.

Quick. Instinctive. Like his presence had triggered a reflex.

Your gaze caught his immediately. He flinched a little, took a step back, but couldn’t look away from your eyes.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. Your voice was hoarse from sleep, but firm. Direct.

Bakugo swallowed hard.

He had no answer.

Not a single useful word in his head.

He could only think about what he’d just seen. What he was still seeing.

Your eyes widened. Your hand flew to your face, like you could still hide in time.

"Where is it? Where’s my mask?!" you asked, urgently. You looked around, uneasy, like you felt exposed.

And then he spoke. Almost without thinking.

"Why? You don’t need it."

The tone was rough, but it didn’t sound like a command. More like a complaint. Like it wasn’t fair that you wanted to hide again.

You tried to sit up, pushing with your other hand, but the IV in your arm stopped you. You winced, frustrated. Not from pain, but from helplessness.

"For fuck’s sake, you’re gonna hurt yourself! You crazy or what?!" he suddenly snapped, stepping closer.

Reluctantly, yeah. You lay back down slowly. Though now you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Your cheeks, flushed. And he noticed.

And then, he thought out loud.

"You’re… really damn pretty."

The silence that followed was thick.

Your face changed immediately.

"Excuse me?!" you snapped, turning toward him with annoyance. Your brows furrowed and the blush on your cheeks deepened.

He stared at you a moment more and finally stepped back. He turned toward the door, but just before crossing it, he spoke again:

"You look better without the damn mask. Get used to hearing it."

And then he left.

No dramatics. No extra words.

And you stayed there, heart pounding like your body was soaking up light… of another kind.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.